When a Good Woman Goes to War
by piperholmes
Summary: With a firm resolve, Cora rose from her vanity and pulled on her dressing gown and slippers. As armor went, it wasn't very protective, but rather strategic. After all, this wasn't about her, it was about her baby. Cora/Robert, Cora/Tom, S/T.
1. Chapter 1

**When a Good Woman Goes to War**

**Part 1: Cora & Robert**

**By: piperholmes**

**A/N: I can't tell you how many times I started writing this, only to delete it. I'm still not sure how I feel about it, but I had to start somewhere. There were a lot of tears shed, trying to get this out, so I apologize if it is choppy. I'm not quite ready to try a S/T story yet, but hopefully this is the first stepping stone. Unbeta'd.**

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"_Will you help me do battle, for Tom and the baby, if the time comes?"_

The time had come.

Lady Grantham watched stoically as O'Brien's reflection tied off the long braid. There was no talk tonight, no words of comfort from maid to master. Those words were all dried up, their meanings exhausted into nothingness. And when the words are gone, all that's left is the emotion.

"Thank you, O'Brien," her cool crisp American voice stated, "I'll continue on from here."

O'Brien's eyes snapped up to the blue in the mirror. "Are you sure m'lady?"

Lady Grantham spared a smile. "Quite sure."

The lady's maid merely nodded, slipping soundlessly out of the room.

With shaking fingers, Cora reached out for her lotion, mindlessly going through the motions as she worked the sweet smelling concoction into her skin. Anger simmered dangerously just below the surface. Anger, mixed with grief, mixed with conviction, mixed with love; a volatile combination that grew more potent as the night's events played over in her mind.

"_And what exactly does this _business_ consist of?" Lord Grantham inquired, never one to hide his contempt._

_Kieran Branson shifted uncomfortably in his chair at the dinner table, as Tom's face adopted the hard, blank stare she'd seen so frequently the last few weeks. It was clear the older Branson resented being here, sitting at this table with an imperious English Lord. Yet he answered with aplomb._

"_Automobile refurbishment." _

"_He means car repairs," Tom offered, his voice on edge._

"_I see," Lord Grantham responded, though Cora doubted he did. "And you'd live nearby?"_

"_We've rooms above the garage," Kieran stated, not missing a beat, "We can get one of the cousins over to help out with little Sybbie," he glanced awkwardly around the table then offered, "There's a bit of a park nearby."_

_Tom winced. _

_It all sounded so sad, so lame. _

"_Don't suppose you have any beer?" Kieran ventured._

"_Haven't you had enough?" Tom snapped._

Cora shook her head, a knot in her stomach. She had tried to keep the peace, help Tom keep cool. It wasn't his brother's fault, yet he'd been willing to take it out on him. She didn't know Tom well, but she knew enough to know this wasn't him. He knew better than anyone what it was like to sit at that table, feeling their stares, their condescension, their magnanimous tolerance, yet he'd been so closed up, so bottled in this house that he had lashed out at the one person he didn't have to pretend with.

And Tom needed people in his corner. Tonight proved that.

"_This is the life you plan to provide for her?" Robert accused, his voice dripping with incredulity. _

_Tom bristled._

"_We don't need to discuss this yet," Cora interjected kindly. "Nothing has to be decided right now." She sent her husband a pointed glare, which he ignored._

_Tom closed his eyes for a moment, then with a sad sigh he said, "I'm afraid, Lady Grantham, it does have to be decided right now. My brother has been kind enough to speak on my behalf to his employers, but they won't be able to hold the position long."_

_Kieran nodded. "They've been very understanding, but they expect him to start next week."_

"_So soon?" Lady Grantham frowned. "The poor man's only just lost his wife."_

_Kieran looked confused, and blinked at his brother._

_Cora watched as the brothers shared a thought, and to her surprise she knew the silent message. 'It is a different world for them.' _

_Tom glanced down at his still untouched plate of food before explaining, "If this had happened in Dublin, if I had lost her there, I would've been expected to be back at work the day after the funeral." _

"_This is ridiculous," Mary spoke up. "Tom should be allowed to stay here for as long as he needs."_

With a firm resolve, Cora rose from her vanity and pulled on her dressing gown and slippers. As armor went, it wasn't very protective, but rather strategic. After all, this wasn't about her, it was about her baby.

"_I think that Papa might see it as some kind of answer…"_

The words swept around in her mind. How perceptive her youngest had been. How sensitive and understanding.

_Lord Grantham bullied forward, "If Tom feels it is right to move on, find a job, then I must say I agree. We can't expect him to wallow around here forever."_

"_To wallow arou…really Robert," Cora chastised, her eyes moving from her husband to her young son-in-law. The later seemed not to care much, as if numbed to the implications._

_Giving no heed to his wife's warning, the Earl continued, "Only I think we should all think about what's right for the baby, and I think perhaps, when Tom leaves, he should strongly consider leaving her here."_

_The sound of the fork clattering to the plate exploded around the room, Tom was on his feet, his chair shoved back, and for a moment Cora saw him, really saw him. His shoulders tight, his fist clenched, his eyes blazing; this was the man Sybil had seen when everyone else had been so blinded—the passion, the fight. _

_She saw her daughter standing there._

_Silence gripped the room, squeezing, daring, challenging. The Irishman glared at her husband, his jaw working. Her husband glowered back. In a moment of sheer lunacy the Countess felt the desire to laugh. Why had she not listened to her daughter? This boy, who stood up to the king, was never a chauffer. In truth, he was more like the Earl than either wanted to admit; not in station, not in politics, but in strength, in conviction, in love._

"_Sybil stays with me," Tom finally said, his voice calm, but firm._

"_**Mama…"**__A remembered whisper, an entreaty._

"_Of course she will," Cora replied quickly, "Lord Grantham…" she hesitated, and corrected, "Your father-in-law should not have suggested otherwise."_

_This time she ignored the outraged look from her spouse and the raised eyebrow from her own in-law, and instead focused on their visitor, "Now, Mr. Branson, what brought you to Liverpool?"_

_To his credit the man looked to his brother, concern clear, only turning to answer once his younger brother nodded and slowly took his seat._

_That was it. The conversation was over. The meal would continue, as it always did._

Except this time.

This time she would not stand idly by.

"_We'll look after them. We'll look after them both."_

Those words, choked out through shock and grief, now gave her power, control. Without hesitation, she knocked on her husband's dressing room door, not waiting for a reply she pushed through.

A startled Mr. Bates looked at her, hand frozen in air as he was brushing out his Lordship's dinner jacket.

Her husband, however, seemed completely unsurprised.

No words passed between the couple, prompting Mr. Bates to say, "I can finish this downstairs m'lord. Is there anything else I can do for you?"

"No, thank you, that'll be all," Lord Grantham conceded.

The pair remained silent as the newly returned servant gathered the jacket and departed from the room, closing the door behind him.

"How could you Robert?"

He stiffened, indignant. "I suppose you are referring to the suggestion that Tom leave the baby here?"

"Don't take that tone with me," she accused, "You don't get to be so glib."

He raised an eyebrow.

"And yes, I'm talking about your deplorable behavior at dinner."

"Deplorable?" Robert demanded, unbelievingly, "Is it so deplorable to want the best for Sybil's child?"

Her eyes narrowed. "You mean your grandchild, right?"

Lord Grantham gave her an incredulous look, but she saw the way his jaw tightened, she knew him too well.

"Yes, she's Sybil's child," she continued, "but she's also Tom's child, your grandchild, but I don't think you've accepted that yet."

"Don't be ridiculous," he snapped. "Of course I know who she is."

"Do you?"

The question hung in the air. And from the years of marriage, raising three daughters, the loss of a much desired son, a great war, and now another lost child, with moments of great love and great heartache in between, they both knew what she was asking.

"Can you know her when you seem so set on forgetting who her mother was?"

He turned from her, affronted at the suggestion that he didn't know his own daughter, but really it wasn't the accusation, rather the truth behind it that ate at him.

She stared at his back, refusing the impulse to reach out to him. This wasn't something she could let go, not when there was so much depending on her.

After a moment, his shoulders slumped slightly, and still not looking at her, he confessed, "I resent him."

She said nothing, how could she? This is what she wanted, to hear him finally speak.

"If he had remembered his place," Robert insisted, turning to her directly, "If he hadn't been so arrogant, so inappropriate—"

"Then we wouldn't have the beautiful granddaughter that we have now," Cora interrupted gently, pleadingly, "And Sybil wouldn't have been happy."

Grantham scoffed angrily. "He stole her from me from us."

She felt weary, beaten. There was too much broken, too many layers to fight through, too much hurt on both sides. Her own heart ached, deep and unforgiving.

"_It wouldn't be right for him. He needs to move forward."_

Oh how her daughter had loved her husband. Hours of difficult labor, exhausted, and…dying…still she thought of him.

Tears glistened in her blue eyes, and her throat felt as if it were trying to close shut. She had spent so long being critical, being merely accepting, and she was ashamed to have missed something so beautiful.

"No Robert," she rasped, "She ran to him."

At her words, her husband's face hardened.

A tear escaped down her soft, smooth cheek, but still she spoke, a labored whisper the best she could manage. "And she was happy. I know you don't want to admit it, but she was. It was there, in all the letters you refused to read. It was in the way she looked at him, fought for him. It was in the way she touched him. It radiated off of her."

Robert shook his head, refusing.

"Yes," she stated firmly, wiping quickly at the wet paths down her face. "And we missed too much of her life, too much of her. Tom and Sybil are our remaining link to her. I will not allow you to drive them away."

"I can't hold him here against his will, Cora," he pointed out.

"No, but you need to recognize and accept that that boy is in so much pain he doesn't know which way is up. He is drowning in his grief and he is desperate to cling to anything that will keep his head above water, and the only reason he's even fighting is because of his little girl, and tonight you threatened to take her away from him."

"Cora—"

"No Robert," she cut him off. "We tried it your way, and we missed her wedding, we missed so many precious moments. Now we will do it my way. We will be his family, we will be what he clings to until he is strong enough on his own, and then we will always be there, ready to help in times of trouble or need."

His eyes were shattered. "I don't know if I can."

Cora nodded. "I understand. I truly do. I know you are struggling, but you will do this Robert, and I will help; every step I will help."

She reached out, taking his large hand in her small one. She gave comforting squeeze, knowing this was difficult for him. "And you'll start by going to the Christening and without complaint, because we aren't going to make the same mistakes with our granddaughter as we did with our daughter. And then we are going to do everything in our power to help our son to piece his life back together."

Robert looked ready to argue, but in the end, did not. He simply nodded.

"Good."

It was a start.

She pressed a small kiss against his cheek, a fleeting smile upon her lips. "Now, you head on to bed, and I'll be back with you in a moment."

"Where are you going so late?" he demanded.

"To keep a promise."

End of Part 1

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**Thank you for reading!**

**Part 2: Cora and Tom**


	2. Chapter 2

**Part 2: Tom and Cora**

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She couldn't find him.

Cora had gone in search of her son-in-law, heading to the one place she was sure to find him, only to hear from the night nurse that Tom had stopped by and kissed his daughter goodnight and left. That had surprised her, and left her feeling rather anxious. She knew his nightly routine had become about his baby girl. He was the one who rocked her to sleep, sang the last lullaby of the day to her, and watched over her. He was the one that slept in the spare bed, who walked the floor with her at night, only waking the nurse when it was time for a feed. No one said anything, no one commented, she and her daughters kept his secret. It wasn't acceptable, a father was meant to kiss the cheek and pat the head at the end of the day, ensure the nurse or nanny was providing proper care, then smile in farewell until the next day. But Cora was coming to accept it, even appreciate it.

The house was quiet as she continued her search for him, a heavy feeling in her stomach. Her gentle knock on the bedroom that had been made up for him the night Sybil had given birth went unanswered. He had moved in there completely.

Her head turned, glancing to the room across the hall, the room whose door had remained firmly closed. She moved slowly, her hand hesitating at the knob. Her delicate fingers wrapped around the cold metal. She hadn't been in this room since that night.

"_Come on, come on breathe love, come on. Listen, it's me, my darling, all you need to do is breathe, right now."_

Her hand fell away without turning. She knew he wasn't in there. It made no sense, it had no reason, but she knew, just as she knew she needed to find him, she knew that he too was not ready to cross the threshold to this room.

"_Please wake up love. Please don't leave me."_

It haunted her. It would forever haunt her.

Instead she turned and headed to the staircase. Every room she thought to check was dark and empty. Panic began to take root. The part of her heart she had buried and locked away since that night began to ache, demanding attention.

Urgency propelled her through the house, unmindful of her state of undress, as her dressing gown billowed about her legs. Her child needed her, and truthfully, she needed him.

"_Mama…will you help me…"_

The quiet plea, always so gentle and now so painful.

She wouldn't fail her, not again. Her mind raced as she pleaded wordlessly for guidance.

"_Oh darling, no, oh God, no."_

She felt overwhelmed as emotions battled against each other, fighting for dominance; anger, grief, frustrations, fear, pain. With each fruitless step, growing more desperate as images of that night played.

"_It's a girl!" Cora beamed, "Oh my darling, you have a daughter."_

_Sybil collapsed back against the pillows, sweat and tears rolling together._

"_A fine, healthy baby girl," Sir Philip confirmed, cutting the chord and handing the screaming baby to the nurse._

_Mary and Edith huddled around the newborn, smiling and giggling, but Cora couldn't take her eyes of her own baby. As Sir Philip continued his work, Cora took her youngest's hand._

_Sybil's blue eyes met her own. _

"_Is she alright?" her raspy voice pleaded to know._

"_Of course she is," Cora cooed, knowing the worry that entered a new mother's mind. "You both did wonderfully."_

_Sybil could only nod, her head falling back once more, eyes closed, her breathing harsh as she fought to catch her breath after the excursion of giving birth._

_Cora began wiping her child's brow and face, washing away the hours of pain, her relief so powerful she couldn't stop the tears that escaped down her own cheeks._

_Mary moved to her sister, bringing a small wrapped bundle._

"_Sybil," she called, her love and affection for her sibling ringing clear._

_Sybil's eyes flew open, and her face lit up with the smile that Cora adored; her happy baby, always so sweet and beautiful, now happy with her own baby._

_She watched as Mary gently placed the baby in Sybil's arms, watched as love, so often so hard to detect, radiated between mother and child. A shaking finger delicately caressed a pinking cheek, and Cora's breath caught as she witnessed the moment her daughter's life changed forever._

_They all stood silent, wrapped in a timeless moment._

"_Tom," Sybil whispered and glancing up, said, "Please, someone go find Tom."_

Then, with a whispered impression, she knew. Her body froze, logic shouting down the possibility, but as a slow warmth spread through her, she couldn't deny her heart.

Turning abruptly, she headed for the door and out into the night.

Cora gave little heed to the hard press of the gravel against her feet, the thin material of her slippers offering no real protection against the harsh edges of the tiny rocks, but simply pressed on, on through the damp grass and brown mud, on through the inky darkness, on until she reached her destination.

The Countess of Grantham had very little occasion to walk this path, unbefitting of one of her station, but as she took the last few steps she realized for the first time that she was walking a path her daughter had walked countless times.

One of the large gray doors stood ajar, a low light coming from inside the garage, allowing Lady Grantham to slip in soundlessly. The smell of dust and petrol assailed her senses; the summer day's heat still trapped within the walls.

Despite the light from the single lamp on the wall, it was still difficult to see, the giant shapes of the cars were easily distinguishable, but shadows painted the corners. As Lady of the house she should feel free to go about as she pleased, however, here, it was some how different. Here she felt like she was intruding, intruding on a secret that she was never meant to be privy to.

She squinted, peering around the garage, willing her eyes to adjust quickly, her ears alert to the smallest sounds, but there was nothing.

She began to doubt, to question.

It wasn't until she moved further into the building that she saw him, half hidden in the darkness as he sat on the dirty floor, knees up, leaning against the wall. Still dressed in his shirt and trousers from dinner, but his jacket was gone, his tie hanging loosely around his neck, just as it had that night.

She carefully made her way towards him, noting how his red rimmed eyed gazed out, unseeing. He gave no indication he knew she was there. She could only assume that as he looked out it was the past he watched, playing memories, his only way to see her now.

In her expensive nightwear she knelt beside him, tentatively reaching out, resting a hand on his arm.

He didn't jump or startle, merely turned to look at her, blinking, exhausted.

"I didn't…" he started, his accent think, "I didn't know where to go."

Her brow lowered, concerned he was still truly unaware that she was there. "Tom?"

"I was tired, and I just…I didn't think, and I started to look for her," he explained in a rush, his voice breaking. "I…when I realized what I was doing, I couldn't…I couldn't stay in the house, but I didn't know where to go, so I came here."

Cora's heart began to bleed anew.

He had been too controlled, too quiet, too stoic.

He was buckling.

"_She's so beautiful," Tom gushed, emotions strong as he looked upon his family. "Oh my darling, I do love you so much."_

_Cora watched as the new father and mother smiled at each other, he pressed a loving kiss against her skin, their fingers entwined as they held their child together for the first time._

The only time.

His resolved deserted him and his face crumpled as a sob escaped his lips.

All hesitation was lost at the sound of his tortured cry, and Cora wrapped her arms around him, bringing his head to her bosom, rocking and shushing with practiced ease.

Her own eyes filled but she refused them. It's what a mother does. She would weep alone, but for him, right now, she would be strong. It didn't matter how difficult it was, or how painful, she would not break when holding him up.

Time had no place here, and she would never know how long he cried, or how long after he fell silent they sat there, clinging to each other. It just was.

When he finally pulled away he looked up at her, loss a devastation etched on his face, but not embarrassment, for which Cora was grateful, and in that moment she knew that one day she would love him for him and not just for her daughter.

"I don't know how I'm supposed to live without her."

His sudden confession was rough and honest, rubbing raw the wound.

She had no answer for him.

His hand moved to his chest, the pain becoming physical. "How can I live when she took my heart with her? I worry…what if I can't love my daughter as I'm suppose to? What kind of life can I give her when so much of me is gone?"

Cora frowned. She understood his fear, his concern, but she knew he already loved his baby as a father should. He already cherished her as she should be cherished. He was blinded by his grief, unable to see and understand what was so obvious.

She had never been a romantic, rather more prosaic, which she knew her mother-in-law would never believe. But despite what she knew was considered her wild American upbringing, Cora had never gone much for the poetry and song. She had married a man she loved but who did not marry her. That was as romantic as her life had ever gotten. Robert grew to love her, passion, happiness and adoration coming into their marriage. Practicality had helped her survive the derisions of her English aristocratic family.

Yet she could see that was not the case with her daughter and son-in-law. They had burned bright and hot, their hands always seeking each other out. It was different from her own love, but no less important, just a challenge at times to understand, but despite that, she believed him. She believed her daughter took his heart, and she would not scoff.

"But Tom, you must let that be the best part of you," she began, her thoughts a jumbled mess, so unfamiliar to such prose leaving her lips. "You loved each other so completely, that she had your heart, but you have hers. It's the only way you two were able to survive the obstacles in your way, the only way you were able to stand up for each other. I see her in you. Parts of you are gone with her, but parts of her are here with you."

Tom's brow lowered in uncertainty.

"You already love your daughter Tom," Cora stated simply, "You love her with a mother's heart."

Tom said nothing, but she saw a fleeting moment of hope flash in his eyes.

It was something, and she wasn't going to give up.

"Now," She said, straightening, her voice a manifestation of her years as countess, "you will come with me. You will go to bed, and sleep. You're no good to anyone so exhausted."

His eyebrows went up and she could see the argument beginning.

She waved a hand, cutting off his attempts to speak, "I will stay with the baby tonight. And in the morning we can start to talk about what you want to do. I won't let you throw your life away because you feel so lost and desperate. You will stay here, with us, for as long as you need, so you can make the best decisions for your family and I will support you," she promised.

Tom sighed, "It's not that easy Lady Grantham. I don't think Lord Grantham wants that, and I don't know if I can handle much more of his disapproving stares and glares."

A moment of shame struck at her. "Cora and Robert, Tom, please call me Cora. And things will change," she swore. "I wish…well, it doesn't matter what I wish, what matters is what I do now. You are not alone here Tom."

Cora stood, her legs feeling wobbly from being crouched for so long. Tom followed dutifully suit.

"Lady…Cora," Tom called, stopping her as she turned to head back to the big house.

She looked at him expectantly.

A ghost of a sad smile played at the corners of his mouth. "I just wanted to say that I see her in you too."

"_Will you help me do battle, for Tom and the baby, if the time comes?"_

"_Of course," Cora smiled at her child, reassuring. "Now sleep darling."_

The end

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**Thank you so much for reading. I'm sorry if this feels very dense and heavy—not just in terms of the emotions. This is rather raw, and I just wrote until I felt done. And again it's unbeta'd.**


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